Hunger
by o-WinterQueen-o
Summary: Healing is a long and arduous process, but it's okay to ask for help along the way. (V: Psychological Terror)
1. Pathetic

**Kari back at it again with the RP drabbles yo o3o**

 **Today I have this bit I wrote for my Psychological Terror Verse with Ash, check out my profile for a link to some background info if you want, but basically it goes on the premise that Shirosaki tried to put Ichigo through hardcore intense training over a period on months to make him stronger (against Ichigo's will) bit it ended up involving a lot of physical and mental abuse like sleep deprivation, starvation, nightmares, degradation, and eventually mind control. It was brutal enough that it almost killed Ichigo, but before that could happen, he was able to break free of the mind control long enough to get help. Now Ichigo is in the process of healing and Shiro is being forced to learn just how much damage he did to his Shinigami during his training.**

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Ichigo looked longingly at the food laid out before him by the nurses- rice and beef broth and applesauce- it smelled heavenly, but he did not touch it. His hands stayed folded neatly in his lap as stared at it hungrily for a long while before biting his lip and turning away. He didn't have permission to eat right now. He knew Shirosaki wasn't too far away, last Ichigo had seen him, his dad was pulling him out into the hall, to talk about him probably.

That was only a short while ago. They could walk back in at any minute. If his hollow came back and saw signs that he'd eaten without permission… he didn't want to consider the punishment that would incur. So he laid still, hands folded across his lap as he gazed dully out the window, food completely untouched no matter how his stomach growled for it and his mouth watered at the scent.

By the time Isshin and Shirosaki returned, the food was cold. Ichigo's hands were balled into fists, but his self control remained intact. He did not eat.

"Ichigo, aren't you hungry? You didn't eat anything."

His father's question startled him. Turning away from the window, he glanced between his father and his hollow. He needed permission to answer that question. Yet Shirosaki seemed too sullen and angry to notice Ichigo's questioning glances, so he stayed silent, eyes falling to stare at his lap.

His stomach growled once more.

" Ichigo . I can tell you're hungry, why didn't you eat?" Isshin was at his bedside now, looking down at him with worry- it was such an odd thing to see from his father of all people, who he was so used to seeing with ridiculous goofy grins or a brusque seriousness reserved only for life or death matters. Now however his father looked like an actual worried father. Harried and strained, but still kind and almost doting in nature. "Is the food too rich for you to handle right now? It's not upsetting your stomach or anything, is it?"

Again, the young shinigami gave no response, save a quick glance up at Shirosaki for permission that he did not receive.

Catching his glance, his father turned to see what was causing his silence. Glaring at the hollow with narrowed eyes, he moved to stand in front of the hollow, arms crossed over his chest. "Shirosaki, why isn't my son talking to me?"

The hollow glanced up at Isshin waspishly before turning his hard gaze upon Ichigo who immediately seemed to shrink under it. "Why aren't you eating? You're always complaining about being hungry aren't you?"

This time his answer was prompt, for he was expected to answer Shiro's questions right away, even if his answer came out low and hesitant. He could feel it, he did something wrong again, didn't he? "I-I don't have permission to eat…"

Shirosaki rolled his eyes irritably, as if he could not believe he heard something so stupid as that some from his Shinigami's mouth. There was shock upon his father's face, then rage as he seemed to realize just what Ichigo meant by that. Yet before he could act on that rage, the hollow spoke again.

"Tch, yeah, whatever. Go ahead and eat, talk, I don't particularly give a fuck at the moment." Shirosaki waved his hand dismissively and turned away as if he were completely unconcerned though Ichigo feel a sense of satisfaction though the connection he shared with him. He was pleased that his teachings were still in place even without the control.

Eyes widening, he looked between the food and Shiro as if he were expecting the other to change his mind. He could really eat this? The hollow remained with his back towards the teen even as he continued to glance between him and his supposed meal in his disbelief. His father ended his dilemma, pushing the rolling little tray table up closer to him with an imploring look.

Ichigo pressed his lips together, shaking hands reaching for the spoon for his broth. Once in hand, he glanced over at Shiro once more.

Nothing.

Carefully he dipped the spoon into the cold broth, intending to raise it to his mouth, for he could no longer bear the idea of waiting for anymore approval. The broth however, never made it to his mouth.

His hand shook.

The broth spilled.

Fuck.

A wave of sorrow and frustration washed over him as he bit his lip in an attempt not to show his discontent. It was fine. It was fine. He would just try again.

And again.

And again.

Each attempt, his hand shook worse than before, and after each failure, the discontent in his heart swelled even greater. How pathetic.

Fine. No broth. He still had his rice. Unsteady hands moved instead to the chopsticks on the tray, desperately attempting to grasp them even though his hands were shaking so badly at this point he doubted that even if he could hold them, that he would be able to keep hold of the rice. Nonetheless, he tried.

He tried.

He tried.

He tried.

Hunger rose up once more in his concave belly, making itself known with another loud cry, begging for food that would not come. His lips wobbled as he stared down at the food, half tempted to start trying to eat the rice with his fingers just so he could get something in his stomach. No- he would not reduce himself to that. Not with Shirosaki right there in the room with him. There to mock him for his pathetic weakness. For his utter desperation for something as meager as food. For his inability to hold himself together long enough to even eat. What a miserable excuse for a Shinigami. What a fucking embarrassment. He couldn't do that.

He'd rather starve.

Letting the chopsticks fall to the tray once more, Ichigo pressed his lips together tightly, hanging his head in shame as he attempted to hold back the tears of frustration pooling in his eyes. He really was pitiful, wasn't he?

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 **Thanks for reading y'all~ Please review~**


	2. A Helping Hand

**Yo! This is Kari with a fresh baked batch of angst~ Ash says she liked it, so I hope y'all will too!**

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A warm hand settled carefully on his back, rubbing slow soothing circles in an attempt to comfort the obviously distraught teen. Really, Isshin generally did not allow himself to be this soft, but when his children were in distress, he would make an exception. Right now, with everything the boy had been forced to endure, softness was probably for the best anyways, lest he be mistaken for the one who had dealt the teen such suffering. This notion was only further cemented by the helpless look of misery on Ichigo's face when he looked up to face Isshin. "It's okay Ichigo, it's okay. You're allowed to need help."

Moving to perch at the edge of his son's hospital bed, Isshin picked the chopsticks up off the tray where they'd fallen. He took up a bit of rice, holding it up before his son's mouth. Even as the teen's face flushed with shame and embarrassment for his inability to eat on his own, the elder Kurosaki remained steadfast. "C'mon Ichigo." he prodded the teen's lips once with the utensils.

Ducking his head forward slightly so his bangs obscured his face, the teen took the proffered bite. Despite his shame, Ichigo was quick to swallow the first morsel and take the next. The rice was cold and bland and slightly hardened from being left out too long, but Ichigo couldn't care less about the flavor at that point. He was so relieved to have something in his stomach other than bile or blood, it was probably better that Isshin was helping him eat. Otherwise, he would have gorged himself much too quickly on the rice and choked or made himself sick.

Setting the rice bowl down, much to Ichigo's disappointment as his stomach growled hungrily once more, his father picked up a cup of water with a straw to hold to his lips. The teen hadn't realized how thirsty he was until that moment. Taking a long sip from the straw, he glanced up cautiously at his hollow from beneath his bangs.

The teen nearly choked. He hadn't been expecting the other to be staring right at him.

"Yer feeding him now?" the hollow spat. "How pathetic. What, is he so fucking fragile he can't hold a couple of sticks on his own now? "

Ichigo flinched, eyes falling to stare at his lap where his hands rested, still shaking even though he was not trying to use them.

"He's not fragile Shirosaki," Isshin's voice was flat and cold when he spoke. "He wouldn't have been able to survive all that utter hell you put him through if he was, and you know that. That little mind-control stunt you pulled caused dozens of problems besides the obvious mental trauma. This here is a direct result of nerve damage that impaired his fine motor skills mixed with the long term fatigue and anxiety, all caused by your little mind games."

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The hollow snarled at the accusation, but otherwise remained silent though internally he was seething.

The list just kept getting longer it seemed. Ruptured organs, heart problems, anxiety, malnutrition, sleep deprivation, nerve damage fatigue, trauma this, trauma that, on and on and on Ichigo's father and the Quincy doctor would go. Always another thing to add to that list of their, to accuse him of doing.

It was pathetic. Worse- all this coddling they were harping on his King was just undoing all his hard work. Couldn't they tell they were just letting him fall back on all those weaknesses Shirosaki had painstakingly rid Ichigo of? He'd forced the Shinigami to learn to operate on only a few hours of sleep at a time, to go for days at a time without it at points. Now they were pumping him full of chemicals to make him sleep for nearly half the day! He'd gotten Ichigo to eat only once a day, and then only when he'd earned a meal, now they had tubes stuck in him to 'fix' the results of his 'starvation'. He'd trained him for hours on end every single day for months now, but he wasn't allowed to leave that godforsaken hospital bed any more.

Yet, the worst part of all of it was how he was letting them do this.

Shirosaki was standing idly by, letting them undo all his hard work.

Because he couldn't get that image out of his head.

Ichigo, clutching at his abdomen and crying every time he tried to move. Crying. Sure, he made his King cry sometimes with the nightmare he forced him to endure in the early days to make his mind stronger, but that was different. Those nightmares were made to seem as real as possible. They were made to push all his limits and realize each and every one of Ichigo's fears.

That day though… Ichigo was crying in pain.

Even when Shirosaki pushed him to all his physical limits, forced him to endure pain after pain over and over again, and get back up to train some more- even through all of that- Ichigo never cried. Screamed. Begged. Bitched. Yelled. But he never cried. His body was too strong for that. His pain tolerance was too high for that.

On that day though, he couldn't force Ichigo to stand, even with the mind control…. He literally had to pull the teen out of bed, but when he let go, Ichigo crumpled to the floor in a heap. Shirosaki remembered ordering him to get up already and kicking him in the stomach only for the teen to begin bawling.

"Sh-Shiro please please stop… make it stop!"

Ichigo had already been hysteric with pain and exertion and fever at that point…

"Pain… heat… hot…. It's too hot… cooking… cooking me… DAD! Hurts… hurts hurts… too much. PLEASE DAD! I can't- caN'T, HELP! Burning bursting burning- SHIRO PLEASE-!"

Shirosaki hadn't known what to do then… Ichigo had been too far gone to be coherent… He had to get Isshin then… He didn't know what was wrong with Ichigo, but it wasn't anything he could fix with regeneration, and that scared him. His host, his shinigami, his wielder was crying on the floor, unable to move on his own, and the Zanpakuto couldn't do anything about it.

But Isshin could… The fucking Shinigami seemed to know exactly what was wrong, just by touching Ichigo, by listening to his strange babbling.

Now they were here with him being forced to remain manifested by some device the annoying blond Shinigami Shopkeeper had slapped on him, and his Shinigami bedridden by his father's and the Quincy Doctor's decree because, apparently, the Zanpakuto's training was breaking his wielder. The hollow didn't want to believe it, but the Doctors were insistent. They'd showed him charts and comparisons between Ichigo's physical conditions and a normal human's and a dying human's…

The fact Ichigo's charts looked closer to the dying person's was alarming… Assuming they weren't lying. And that really just pissed him off! He was supposed to making him stronger! Why the fuck wasn't it working? How was him removing all those damned weaknesses somehow killing his Shinigami?

It was frustrating as all hell.

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Isshin had turned away from the hollow by this point, returning his attention to his son who looked to be having trouble keeping his meal down.

"Ichigo, are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah…" Closing his eyes, the teen took a few deep breaths. Maybe he had somehow eaten too fast… "'m sorry… for all the trouble..."

"Stop apologising Ichigo." his father sighed, running a hand through the teenager's hair. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But-" Isshin cut him off with a stern glare.

"Enough. You aren't at fault for any of this."

Ichigo nodded mutely as if in agreement even though the look on his face clearly showed that he wasn't convinced. He should have fought harder… tried harder… done more so this wouldn't have gotten to this point… so his family and friends wouldn't have to deal with all this bullshit… Yet he didn't argue. They wouldn't listen to him anyways, so convinced that he'd done everything he could…

A hand brushed through his hair, interrupting his thoughts. Ichigo flinched away, breath hitching for an instant as his vision unfocused. He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut, as he tried to ward off the feeling threatening to overwhelm him. The feeling of nails scraping against his scalp, running down his neck, wrapping around his throat-

Snapping back to reality, he realized it was only his father. His father trying to comfort him. "S-Sorry dad…"

Isshin patted the teen's shoulder. "It's alright." He knew he wouldn't be able to get Ichigo to break the habit of apologising just yet. The cuts were too deep… too fresh… to break him of that. "Do you think you can manage some broth right now? Or was the rice too much?"

Ichigo bit his lip. He'd only eaten about half the rice, but he felt full- fuller than he should be from such a small amount. Still, the broth sounded good… "M-Maybe… a little…?"

Isshin nodded, picking up the soup spoon this time. Dipping the spoon in the broth, the elder Kurosaki made to lift it towards his son's mouth when a chilled hand grabbed his wrist.

"Let me do that."

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 **Thank you for reading! Please review~**


	3. Panic

Yo it's ya girl back at it with my usual bullshit! So sorry for yeeting for like. a year ::V I promise i'm actually going to finish this, it's just a little hard between school and work and all ^^ Anyways, Shiro's a dick and Ichi has PTSD and Isshin is really out of character because I killed ani-manga Isshin and cloned LA movie Isshin to replace him.

I don't own bleach yadda yadda because if i did there would be way more tres bestias. I hope y'all enjoy the chap!

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" _Let me do that."_

Heartbeat stuttering upon hearing those words, Ichigo looked up at his hollow with wide eyes. Did he hear that right…? Shiro asking to…feed him…? The very idea was too absurd for words. He didn't know how he should feel about this. Unconsciously shifting further back into his pillows, a chill ran up his spine at the look in his eyes.

It was familiar, yet not. Something about it spoke the hardness he saw in his eyes during training. Unwavering, Pointed. Poised. Yet something was missing, and something else was there in its place. Ichigo couldn't tell if that was good or bad... It unnerved him. But then the hollow's gaze shifted. Apprehension and anxiety churned in his stomach as he gazed up at the hollow whose attention had turned to his father.

Shiro and Isshin appeared to be having a staring contest with his father's eyes narrowed with clear distrust and Shiro's meeting that distrust with open hostility. He couldn't tell what Shiro's motives were for this suggestion, but the way he was acting set him on edge. Like at any minute his other half would lash out and hurt him again… or worse, hurt his father. Though Ichigo knew Isshin was more than capable of taking care of himself and that Shiro was all but neutralized thanks to the device Urahara made and stuck on him, the instincts he gained from the months upon months of conditioning Shiro put him through were stronger than his logical thought.

The beeping heart rate monitor he was attached to had slowly begun to creep up to a faster rate to be heard by everyone in the room. Ichigo hated that. How his emotions, his fear, was laid out so plainly for everyone to know with the rapid beeping of the machine, yet it didn't seem to phase the other two people in the room. So locked they were in their stare off they didn't notice the world around them. But Ichigo did. He was hyper-aware of every detail.

He could see the vein pulsing at his father's temple and the subtle movement in his hollow's jaw characteristic of one clenching and unclenching their teeth. He was all too well aware of the weight of their reiatsu, furling and unfurling in the air in a passive show of dominance. The weight was suffocating, the tension unbearable. His own heartbeat sounded in his ears, the beat of a drum rapid in his like rolling thunder in the sky in time with the high pitched frantic beeping of the machine. It was too much. Too much.

He was choking. He was being crushed. He was surrounded on all sides. Everything- Everything was squeezing in and he didn't know what to do he couldn't breathe he felt like he was going to die there was static filling his head in an endless throbbing drone as dread an anxiety clawed its way through his being he was going- he was going- he was going to drown in it he couldn't t-

A warm hand was placed on his shoulder and he flinched. His heart was still beating rapidly, but it eased slightly. Distantly, he realized he was trembling and panting as if he'd just run several miles. Brown eyes blinked slowly, dazed as he glanced up once more to be met with his father's concerned gaze only inches away from his own. Not far behind him was his hollow, piercing yellow gaze upon him, though his face was carefully blank. When did they move...? What…?

"Ichigo…? You okay…?" Isshin asked carefully, making Ichigo's brows furrow. He felt strangely disoriented as he tried to regain control of his breath. What…? What had just happened…?

One moment he felt like he was going to die… the next he felt eerily calm… No. Not calm. Detached… Still, he nodded in response to his father's question. He wasn't a second ago… he still wasn't really sure that he was now. But he wasn't nearly as bad off as he was, so he must be fine? Right?

Isshin sighed heavily, now moving to sit at the edge of Ichigo's bed and rubbing slow circles across his son's back, "Looks like you had a panic attack there…"

The action, Ichigo knew, was meant to be soothing, but he couldn't help the tenseness that would not leave his posture. Though his father's touch was warm, though he was gentle, the terror hammered into his bones these last few months would not let him relax. Would not let him ease underneath his father's touch and take in the comfort as he so desperately needed to.

Chapped lips pressed firmly together as he nodded. " 'm okay… Thanks, dad… "

The hidden request for his father to stop his touch was unspoken, but clear, even as it went unheeded, and for that Ichigo was grateful. For once his father's touch was welcome even as his body language spoke otherwise. He needed the comfort. As much as he couldn't accept it properly, he still needed it. Needed the reassurance that his dad was still willing to put up with him. Willing to be

"Are you going to sit around petting him like that all day? I thought he was supposed to be eating." Shirosaki's clipped voice broke through the quiet of the hospital room after a few moments.

Ichigo's eyes darted over to the hollow quickly before falling to his lap once more. He didn't know how to act around Shiro anymore. After all that time… he was too shaky… too unsteady to handle it.

"Impatient as ever." His father sneered at the hollow. The tone had Ichigo pressing his lips together tightly and bracing himself for some sort of retaliation. How many times had he used that exact same tone in the early days of their 'training'? Too often to keep track of. But each time, it had only earned him a harsher beating in their spars or nails raking down his back until the skin broke if he happened to be mouthy towards the voice inside his head while at school… But Isshin did not waver. Did not flinch. In turn, Shiro did nothing but grit his teeth.

"I want him fixed already."

"You're the one that made him like this in the first place." His father's voice was all but a growl now as he stood and stepped forward to tower over Shiro, "You caused every single bruise and cut and damaged organ. And it's going to take him at least three times longer to heal from all this than it did for you to cause all this damage."

Ichigo's stomach turned at that. He'd been under the other's control for about… Four months… That meant, if his dad was right, it would be another year before he was back to normal… A whole year before he was back at a healthy weight with proper dexterity restored and his scars healed and a normal-sized stomach and a full liver with muscles up to standard… He didn't want that…

He hated the idea of having to wait that long before he felt normal again…

"There's not enough time for that. He needs to get back to training." Each word was spat through the hollow's gritted teeth. "He's going to waste away to a goddamn useless stick like that!" A hand was furiously waved in Ichigo's general direction. "You can't keep him like that!"

It was stupid, but Ichigo couldn't help but agree with the hollow.

"He's not going to stay in bed the entire time. For now, he is, but after he recovers some, we'll see on where to go from there." There was no room to argue there, Isshin's voice had a note of finality to it.

Ichigo knew that Isshin was probably talking about physical therapists for him to figure out how to build him back up to his old self over time… Fuck though, he didn't want to wait. He just wanted to be normal again for fuck's sake...

Shiro snarled lowly, clearly not satisfied with the answer, but for now, he could do nothing but wait. Golden eyes flitted over to Ichigo's still silent form once more. He swallowed reflexively under the scrutiny but did not look away. His hollow's face was blank, unreadable as it always was when he didn't want Ichigo to know what he was thinking, but there was something bubbling below the surface that had him at ill-ease…

Something started beeping just then, tearing Ichigo's attention away from his hollow to the source of the noise. His father's phone. Ichigo watched with apprehensive eyes as his dad took the call that had distracted him from the hollow.

"This is Kurosaki."

A pause.

"Can't someone else —"

Another pause.

"I know but —"

Idly, Ichigo wondered who Isshin was talking to. Who the hell was able to shut his dad up so easily…?

"Alright, fine…" he sounded deeply unhappy. "Yeah… Yeah, okay. Send him over as soon as he gets here."

Who was coming…?

"Okay, I'll be right there." Isshin sighed, hanging up the phone. Turning back to Ichigo, he placed a hand on his shoulder, "Your friend, Ishida, he's heading over here right now. I gotta head out to deal with a patient, alright?"

His dad had taken to doing clinical duties around the hospital for Ryuuken in exchange for waving the fee for Ichigo's hospital stay. Ryuuken had been willing to wave it without anything in return, but his dad was too prideful to accept it. "Mmm, 'kay dad…"

"You going to be okay until he gets here?" Isshin asked, glancing briefly over at Shiro with a frown.

"I-I'll be fine dad." it was strange, having his father doting like this. Alien even. The way he hesitated at the door to his hospital room before slipping out into the hall… Though Ichigo appreciated the concern, he almost missed Isshin's old dumbass antics…

The substitute watched his father's form retreat into the mass of bustling medical staff until a wall of white blocked his vision.

Shiro loomed over him, jaw clenched in that oh so familiar set of anger.

 _Shit._

 _._

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Thanks for reading y'all! Please review ^^


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